


Let Us Go And Make Our Visit

by ERNest



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxiety, Banter, Brief mention of religion, Conventions, Fluff, M/M, Questions, Self Confidence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-14 11:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20600192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ERNest/pseuds/ERNest
Summary: Aziraphale's the one who asked to go to a convention, but Crowley's the one who needed to be there. He gets to hear six words that mean the world to him.





	Let Us Go And Make Our Visit

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [kylee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylee) without whose late night discussions about questions and heresy none of this would have been possible <3

“I can’t believe I let you drag me here,” grumbles Crowley.

“My dear boy, it hardly counts as _dragging_ if the minute I offered you were already looking for your car keys. I barely even had to coax you with the all-weekend pass.”

“Tell the whole convention, why don’t you? I’m out of place here, I haven’t been to one of these since… oh, all that trouble at Dashcon. And that was strictly business.”

“Ah!” says Aziraphale as if a great many things have just become clear. “Tell me, was the ballpit your doing?”

“Not as such,” he admits. “More like when I walked in on such a dismal sight I made sure it would never quite inflate all the way. Hardly made a difference when so few people bothered to try it out. No, my tour de force was buying out two entire floors of hotel rooms to put more pressure on an already strained situation.”

“Effective?” Aziraphale suggests.

“Exceedingly. Ligur tempted those organizers to keep the money for themselves, of course, but if you ask me, the whole thing was poorly enough managed that it probably wasn’t even necessary. Delicious, no?”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to come along to the podcasting panel? I know how much those stories mean to you, and you don’t have to have that experience all by yourself, if you don’t want.”

“No, angel,” he says, though he’s touched by the offer. “Thank you, really. You enjoy the Artists’ Alley, okay?”

“Oh, they’re always _such_ a delight. So many creations and stories building upon stories, and everyone passing on the secrets of the craft! Crowley, it’s like my old days at the scriptorium.”

“Right down to intertextuality and varying approaches to canon.” He grins as he emphasizes the last word.

“Oh please. You know I’ve gotten used to that terminology in this context. Anyway, have fun!”

“Ciao!”

*

“We now turn to the floor for questions,” says the moderator. “If you have something you’ve always wanted to ask, stand up and get your hands up high. We’ll do our best to get to as many people as we can.”

Crowley finds himself getting up and straightening his jacket out, a mass of half-formed ideas. He’d heard they sometimes let regular fans ask questions but never really believed it until right this moment. It feels transgressive to be allowed anywhere near this close to the minds and hearts of the people who’ve made something that means so much.

Sure, he’s a demon and transgressions are his stock in trade, but interrogation is the Big One, the _reason_ he became a demon in the first place, and he could not bear to be cast out again, not from _this_ garden. He trembles but stays upright because it can’t be an imposition when he’s been invited. Now if he could only convince his reptile brain of that simple fact.

The cord leading from the microphone to the floor to the stage doesn’t really move much like a snake at all, but it slithers just enough for Crowley to feel a vague sense of kinship and he hisses a little when the moderator comes down the aisle nearest him.

“Oh dear, sorry about that feedback, folks!” Seeing that Crowley is – absolutely not freaking out, why would you think that? – she puts a gentle hand on his forearm. “First time asking a question at one of these?" she guesses sympathetically, and he nods. “Well, no worries, just start with your name.”

He forces his eyes open. “A-Anthony,” he says. It’s stupid to be so nervous.

“Okay, Anthony, say who your question is for and make sure to speak clearly into the mic.”

“This one’s mostly for Griffin and Austin, but it’s for everyone in a way. How does it feel to make a whole world? And to know that no matter what you do and how carefully you plan, other people are going to change that world?”

Austin lights up at that. “Excellent question,” he says. “Thank you for asking.”

After that they all chip in about collaboration, and everything said is exhilarating, but what makes Crowley glow with the most pride and joy is the memory of those first six words. He’s never been thanked for his pesky curiosity; he’s never been _praised_ for the words that come out of such wondering.


End file.
